


The Family "Friend"

by BurnItAllDownDahling



Series: A Family Affair [25]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Drunkenness, F/M, M/M, Multi, No Sex, Seduction, Spardacest (Devil May Cry), Territoriality, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-12-02 00:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20942078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurnItAllDownDahling/pseuds/BurnItAllDownDahling
Summary: "Upon walking into a demon's lair, it was always best to control the field of play..." until, of course, that becomes impossible. Lady considers damnation.





	The Family "Friend"

**Author's Note:**

> No prompt here, just a thought triggered by the headcanons I posted a bit ago. No sex in this one, although...

She'd always known about Dante and Vergil. She'd seen them at the Temen-ni-gru, after all, and though she'd had problems of her own at the time, it hadn't taken a lot of intuition to sense that there was something more to the anger between Sparda's twin sons than just a philosophical dispute. A lot of that had been coming from Dante -- jovial, flirty, apparently careless Dante, who'd radiated weaponized sexuality and fury in such equal measure that his very posture screamed _jilted lover_. But there had been a cold (unresolved sexual) tension in Vergil too, apart from his desire for Sparda's power. He'd wanted other kinds of power, too. He'd hurt Dante, tried to kill him, to prove that he held all the power between them. All he'd really done was affirm the opposite.

And now that Vergil was back and apparently non-murderous, she'd figured there was some chance of walking in on freaky incestuous depravity. They were demons; depravity was par for the course. She didn't want to _see_ it, though, so she called out, "Dante?" as she walked through DMC's front doors. Upon walking into a demon's lair, it was always best to control the field of play -- or, in this case, give Dante plenty of time to pull his dick out of wherever and stuff it into some pants.

There was no answer, and no sound of movement, carnal or frantic or otherwise. She frowned to herself, waiting by Dante's desk for a moment. Maybe they weren't home. Or maybe... She sighed, and looked down at the bag she held in one hand. Maybe Dante was upstairs sprawled out on his bed, passed out drunk. It wouldn't be the first time. Given the date, though, this was the only occasion on which she would ever trouble herself to clean him up, so she shook her head and headed upstairs.

Still silence reigned as she walked through DMC. Usually Dante had music on somewhere, which mitigated the quintessential creepiness of the big, old, wood-frame building; without that, DMC's atmosphere grew creepy enough that her fingers itched to flick off Kalina Ann's safety. The first few (dozen) times she'd visited DMC, she'd done it anyway. It was still the lair of a demon, no matter that this particular demon's biggest crime against humanity was his fashion sense. And while she'd learned to trust Dante over the years, she was still, hmm, _respectful_, of the truth of his nature.

Snoring from up ahead; drunk, then. With a sigh, she followed this sound down the hall, reminding herself that such behavior, however irritating, was proof of his humanity. He wasn't in his bedroom, though, which was odd. The snoring came from farther down the hall. In the storage room? God, how much had he messed himself up this time? She stepped into the open door of the room where the snores were loudest -- and stopped, in surprise.

The storage room had been turned into a bedroom. Dante was indeed sprawled across an absolutely enormous bed there... but instead of being surrounded by bottles and -- once -- the photo of his dead mother that usually sat on his desk, this time Dante lay half-draped over _Nero_, who sat with his back propped against the bed's headboard. Stock-still, and watching her. "Hey, Lady."

"Nero," she said, trying not to show her surprise. Poor kid. How long had he been here, trapped under his wastrel of an uncle? Dante's head was pillowed beneath Nero's chin, and she thought he might be drooling a little. He lay between and across Nero's legs, one arm flung over the boy's shoulder, half curled into a fetal ball. And yet. Nero had both arms around Dante, one hand meditatively brushing wild strands of hair from his cheek, the other on his back, rubbing gently. Apparently the kid was okay with being trapped. Neither of them had shirts on. Pants yes, no shoes because they were in bed, but... well, it didn't mean anything. Except...

There was something off about the way the boy's hand stroked Dante's back. Lady had no uncles, but she was pretty sure she would never want to touch one with quite that much, hmm...

And there was something about the way the kid watched her. Lady had always been a little wary of Nero. It had been obvious from the beginning that he was another part-demon, though Lady had initially assumed he was Sparda's get from some other liaison (or rape, because demon). She _liked_ him, though; Dante's strength without the lechery or deep-seated trauma. A good attitude, too: when Morrison gave her a job and not him, he didn't bitch about it, just went off and found work on his own. Right now, however, Nero's strange gray-blue eyes tracked her every movement. Since he wore no shirt, she could see that his core muscles were still engaged, sleek abdominals flexed and ready to... what?

He looked like he wanted to kill her.

It _felt_ like he wanted to kill her. Her every instinct warned her against coming into the room further.

"Hey," she replied after a moment. In an attempt to defuse that hovering tension, she lifted the bag containing the bottle. "I brought this for him. Usually he doesn't have enough of his own alcohol to get really drunk. Looks like he managed it this time, though."

Nero nodded, once. Slowly. "He sucked down the last of the qliphoth liqueur. I hope Father doesn't let him have any more. He drinks too much." His gaze drifted down to the bag in Lady's hand.

Well, _that_ was a clear-enough message. "I guess that's true. Suppose I'll give him this some other time." And maybe it was time for her to go. "Okay, then -- "

"You came to console him." Nero rode over her. It was the first time she could ever remember him interrupting; usually he was too polite. He was looking down at Dante as he spoke, and there was a _tenderness_ in his gaze that pretty much settled all of her half-formed suspicions at once. Well, well. Depravity all the way down. "You knew this was the anniversary of his mother's death."

Uncomfortably, she shrugged. "We've known each other a long time."

Nero nodded. Slowly, again. "You're his friend." He looked up then, and she tensed and had to fight the urge to go for Kalina Ann at once. His eyes _glowed_, ever-so-faintly, though easy to see in the dim room. And had their color changed? Was the silver more golden? She knew about Dante's other shape, though he always tried not to let her see it. Did the kid have another shape, too? Didn't matter, ultimately; he was powerful enough to rip her in half without it, if she was stupid enough to let him get his hands -- real or spectral -- on her. Still. It really felt as if there was something else, something _not_ human, watching her right now from the boy's deceptively human face.

"You're his friend," he said again. He sounded a little distant, faintly puzzled, as if trying to understand how friendship could even be possible between Dante and her. Or... was he _reminding himself_ that she was Dante's friend, and therefore valuable to him? "He cares about you, and you look out for each other." 

That stroking hand, on Dante's back, had changed its movements. Now the kid was pressing his fingertips in rather hard; Dante's skin showed white with each slow, meditative, passing stroke. The stroke went gentle on the extension; it was only when he dragged his fingers up that he dug in. Like he was thinking about marking Dante with invisible claws.

"Yeah," she said, making herself not look at that stroking hand. If those implied claws turned literal -- "I guess you could say that. I do what I can."

Nero nodded again, so slow, watching her unblinkingly with those eyes. "You're very beautiful, Lady."

Shit. Was he coming on to her? She hadn't even thought he liked women, beard-ex-girlfriend aside. "Thanks," she said, awkwardly. And that was enough. "I'll leave him to you, then, since you seem to be fine with it. You don't have to tell him I came by." With a jaunty wave and a false cheer that she suspected he could see right through, she turned and headed for the steps downstairs. The moment she was out of the bedroom doorway, however, she flipped the safety on Kalina Ann. Just in case. 

But nothing happened... until she was almost to the front door of DMC. Then, near some kind of trophy rack adorned with horned skulls -- Dante was big on demon body parts as an aesthetic -- a piece of shadow detached itself from the wall and resolved into the last person Lady wanted to ever see: Vergil. 

She stopped short. Had he been there since she'd come in? He stood relaxed and unarmed, as if to convey friendliness. And he _had_ changed, becoming something subtly different from the sharp-edged, single-minded creature whom her father had once manipulated... but not that damn different. Dante she trusted. This one? She hadn't even liked his human half. 

And then his other half had trapped her for a month in a prison of living, suffocating demon flesh -- She flinched away from this memory, managing not to do so physically as well. She suspected that he saw it anyway.

"Dante will appreciate that you came to look in on him," Vergil said. Strange that the older brother should have the higher-pitched voice, though it was still velvet over razors. Irritating that his voice _did things_ to her, which was weird and new and unwelcome. She _knew_ that it wasn't his only voice. She'd _seen_ how that smooth-cheeked prettiness wasn't his only face. Knowing didn't help. Nor did the little smile that touched his lips. "I will tell him you visited, even if Nero does not."

"Thanks," she said, putting the bottle down on a nearby shelf. "You can decide whether to give him this, then."

"Nero thinks like a human. Mostly." Vergil shrugged. "He fears Dante's addiction, but what is gluttony to a demon? The alcohol doesn't even affect him much -- just enough for a few hours' peace from painful memories. There can be no sin in that."

Lady shifted a little, fighting the urge to relax at his obvious approval. "I think Nero disagrees, so maybe I should stay out of a family spat."

"You could never get between us." It wasn't a threat. Wasn't even an insult; she saw no malice in his expression, sensed none of it in the interstices of his voice or posture. He'd simply made a statement, like _water is wet_. "Nero is young for a demon lord, however, and not yet as secure in his power as he should be. And you are, or once might have been, a rival. He was probably doing his best not to attack you."

There was just so much to unpack in that whole statement that Lady only belatedly realized it contained a warning of danger. Nero was a demon _lord_? Like Mundus, and Urizen? And -- "A _rival_?"

"You have been Dante's lover, haven't you?"

She did not like the word _lover_, however much petty gratification there might be in realizing Vergil had just confirmed her suspicion about Dante and Nero. "I spent the night a few times. If that's what you mean."

"It would be enough to trigger Nero's possessive instincts, yes." Vergil regarded her for a long moment. His smiles weren't like Dante's, she reflected. Dante smiled as a cover. Vergil's smiles were more like a faceted window pane: through the prism of his amusement, her own unimportance to him became clearer. "How was the sex?"

Okay. She could get angry at the intrusiveness of his questions, but that would suggest defensiveness. Weakness. Instead, she put one hand on her hip. "Not bad," she said, lifting her chin. "_Enthusiastic_. A lot of stamina, not much technique." But she had been hungry and adrift, with nothing to focus her life upon in the wake of her father's death, and he had been hungry and lonely, and beautiful if she overlooked the small matter of his other face. He'd always kept it hidden for her, at least. She'd never told him he was her first.

She was woolgathering, though, and this wasn't the place. "Still, I'm not sure I'd count some one-night stands as a romance, though."

"Nero wouldn't, either, even if his inner demon might disagree. Which is doubtless why you're still alive."

Lady sighed. Shame she was never going to be able to trust Nero again. "Not that I would go down so easily, but I suppose it's always good to know about a potential threat."

"Which is why I told you." He paused. "You're in no real danger from any of us, Mary. Dante's friendship keeps you safer that even your own formidable skills ever could."

The words whipped out of her mouth like a lash, in reflex. "That isn't my name, anymore."

"Do you mean to let Arkham steal the name your mother loved? Keep it, even from the grave?"

That. She stared at him, feeling as if he'd punched her in the chest. That was...

Vergil shook his head, then moved as if to pass her and head upstairs. Instead he stopped beside her, close enough that she could smell him. Wholly different scent from that of Dante. Vergil's was sandalwood and something evergreen that made her think of winter, and very faints hint of sulfur and iron. The scent of demons, and blood.

It bothered her that she didn't find that scent of blood unpleasant, anymore. 

"My mother died on this day, too," Vergil continued. "Perhaps it makes me more... sensitive... to some things, than usual. Our mothers deserve better, I think, than to be overshadowed by our fathers' foolishness."

Wasn't that the fucking truth. "My condolences," she said. The words sounded a little hollow even to her own ears, however. Still reverberating from that punch.

"Thank you." His head turned toward her, very slightly. "You wanted a child from him."

Ice washed through her. She did not react physically, and yet. He knew. She didn't know how, but he did.

She attempted a feint. "What are you talking about?"

"Dante, of course." He spoke softly -- because Nero was right upstairs, she realized, listening with the ears of a jealous demon. "Perhaps not the first time, but later. What stopped you?"

She knew better than to lie. Dante had told her once that he could smell lies; the human scent shifted with the subtleties of psychological tension. So she shrugged. No big deal. "I respected his wishes. He told me he didn't want children."

"Why should that have mattered? You could have taken what you wanted from him and raised the child yourself. If he truly didn't want it, he wouldn't have fucked you."

She sighed. This was the last conversation she'd ever wanted to have with Vergil, but he _was_ Dante's family. If anyone deserved to know... "He told me _why_ he didn't want children. Mundus, mostly, and what happened to the two of you. And later, after he told me what the Order had done to Nero -- raising that poor boy like a fatted calf and then sacrificing him to a literal idol, all to serve their twisted ambitions... I realized humans were a threat, too. I could fight some of the people who would use my child. Not all of them. But also..." She grimaced. "He said that he only wanted children if he could give them a family. I care about Dante, but not like that. He.. gets attached. Marry him, play house? I'd rather die." She shrugged. "So I stopped trying."

"With him. Were there no other men?"

"None who felt..." There was no tactful way to say it. "Worthy."

To her surprise, Vergil lifted his chin with an unmistakably _approving_ air. "I see." He paused a moment. "You realize he has a family _now._"

She went still.

Vergil's voice went low, flowing, velvet with the razors hidden for the moment. A seducer's voice. "An unorthodox family, perhaps, but one that's more than strong enough to protect any children from those who would threaten them. And I, at least, have enough wealth to ensure that your child would never know want. I'm happy to draw up an agreement to settle an allowance on you. Should circumstances warrant."

What. Lady turned to him, bristling. "A _bribe_? Or... what am I, a surrogate now? Are you that eager to be an uncle?"

His little smile had returned. "Women who actually _want_ demonic children, and have the strength to bear them, are rare. I find myself unwilling to let an opportunity to grow our little family pass untaken. And to raise my brother's child, you'd need any help you could get." His gaze drifted down her body. "Also. Dante and I _are_ nigh-identical twins. If you no longer find his, hmm, tendency to _get attached_ acceptable..." He left the sentence hanging.

Her mouth actually fell open. Vergil laughed -- and abruptly stepped closer. This so threw her that she actually pivoted to face him and backed up a step, an involuntary reaction which infuriated her. He leaned in, however, and spoke his next words right beside her ear.

"And I, at least, have _significant_ 'technique.'"

What.

The.

Against her will -- almost -- Lady found her imagination drifting to where it shouldn't. She _had_ liked Dante's strength and his unclothed beauty. He'd always been afraid of hurting her, though, too passive for her tastes. Vergil... would not be passive. Vergil might want her pleasure, if only for reasons of pride, but there would be no fear in him, and he would not coddle her. The thought of him above her, pushing her open, testing her limits, pinning her down --

His gaze sharpened abruptly, and she saw his nostrils twitch. No need to wonder what had caught his attention; hyperawareness of her own arousal, of the damp and heat between her thighs, of her skin and even scalp tingling, was so keen that if he hadn't noticed, she would've thought something was wrong with him.

Bastard. 

"Thought you preferred relatives," she said, folding her arms. Though God knew how that worked, if Nero had laid some kind of claim on Dante --

"Oh, I do. And I'll discuss the matter with them." She was distracted from the belated, shocking realization of _All three of them, it's the three of them, **together**_, by her acute awareness that he was still looking at her body. At her breasts, at her belly. She felt his gaze like a caress. "Nero will take some placating; I'll handle it. But -- should you decide to try again -- I believe arrangements can be made."

God. He'd actually said this. And God. She was actually considering it.

_Be honest. How much of this is because you still want kids? And how much is because..._

He smelled so good, she noticed again.

Then Vergil turned to leave, folding his hands behind his back and exuding an air of such smugness that she hated him, the evil inhuman son of a bitch, and hated herself for thinking about it. What was wrong with her? Dante had been fine, hadn't he? She liked him better as a person. Dante was _safer_. If he'd changed his mind about fatherhood --

\-- and then her thoughts stuttered for a second as a little voice in the back of her mind whispered, _Why not both at once?_

\-- shit.

She could hear Vergil smiling as he spoke over his shoulder, heading up the steps. "It's so good of you to look out for my useless brother... Lady. Do call again when he's awake, so that we can both thank you properly."

_Shit._ She was so fucking wet.

But that was what she got for trying to help that asshole. For walking into a lair of demons. She knew this already, damn it -- the last lesson her father had ever taught her: demons rarely bothered to _lure in_ their prey. Most times? Sinners waltzed right into the arms of damnation.

Snarling to herself, Lady snatched up the bottle as she left. Dante wasn't the only one who needed to get good and drunk tonight, apparently.

**Author's Note:**

> ...yyyyyeah, I'm probably going to write about Lady going for it. Wouldn't you, in her place? Of course, Nero really does have to be soothed, first. Demon lords don't share easily. So we'll probably see that, too. And then there's the fact that Dante still thinks of Lady as fragile, and is terrified of letting her see the demon inside him...
> 
> I came very very close to writing this as "Lady had Dante's child years ago and has been keeping it hidden," but I just did that with Nero awhile ago and it felt like hitting the same button twice. So let's see how this unresolved reproductive tension goes.


End file.
